One
by Liebling
Summary: ¤ “I don’t think this school can teach me anymore.” ¤ ((DM&PP))


"Are you afraid no one loves you? Because my mom says that people really do love each other. They just get confused sometimes and forget how to let each other know."

_-Francine Pascal _

**A/N:**I can honestly tell you all that while writing this…I felt as though it was _so _different from anything I've ever written before.  And I _still_ believe that.  But I think this just has a _touch_ to it that is so very D/P.  It's just strange. Read on!

_Epiphanies: Dahling, we have got to do a collaboration fic!  We really ought to.  ;)_

_xo_

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It's hard to explain, you see.  It's hard to let you understand, you see.  It's hard to get you to feel what they feel, you see.  It's hard to truly feel compassion for them, you see.  

And you wish for a happy ending for them, and you don't, in a lot of way--you wouldn't understand.

But they want you to.

It's a very twisted world for the Slytherins; it's a very twisted world in general, _of course._ But _especially_ for them.  It's strange and you can't really _feel _it unless you _are_ it.

Sorting ceremony lasts about a half an hour, which is too long anyway, and when the hat calls 'Slytherin' the other Slytherins clap and scream.

And they forget to tell you that that's the best thing that'll ever happen.

Because, well, the new Slytherins, some of them being Mister. Malfoy and Miss. Parkinson for this particular year, which is _'91_, if you were wondering, shall have a rather horrendous time these next seven years.  Darkness will overshadow goodness and silly jokes will be made to one another.

Loneliness is common and sleepy students are rare. The evil don't sleep, you know.  There's not much love. Not in the corridors or in the common room or in the great hall or in the classrooms. There's not much love _at all_, for that matter.  And home life is amusing but not lovely...and her father died just last year and his Mother might as will be dead.

And it's strange, because even for **cynics** they used to have a bit of spark. And even for cynics, they were still human. And even for cynics, hearts were not quite broken.

And they were treated as adults because they _weren't_ and the world was askew like _that_.  And _they_ were a bit askew too.  So they make friends, which are really more like enemies that you know better.  And Parkinson and Malfoy are friends but not happy friends.  She tells him about Hogwarts, what she knows, which isn't much.  And he tells her about the world, what he knows, which is more than you'll ever be able to comprehend.

She wonders if there's something better out there and he knows there's not.  She wonders if she'll ever marry him someday and if she'll grow old with him. He wonders if this whole _'ever after'_ thing really feels so strange to those _living_ it.  He says sometimes: "You're over your head, Parkinson."  And she kisses him and says: _"I know."_

Hearts break and shatter.  And they really aren't as strong as you originally thought. And they really can't take it.  And sometimes they never get mended again.

Sometimes people who love each other don't live happily after.  Sometimes people more in love than anything cannot get married and grow old together, or even apart.

And _sometimes_ Slytherins think of these things too.

And _sometimes _Slytherins are more human, and feel **more pain** than anyone will ever know. Or care to recognize for that matter.

So, these Slytherins go on with their lives.  Homework at **seven**, supper at **nine**, party till **eleven**, wake up at **six**, go to classes till **three**, walk the pitch at **four**, lunch at **six**...and the days go on.

He broke up with her in fifth year.  She says that's when she needed him most.  He says she'll be fine, when she grows up she'll be pretty, he says.  She wonders if she'll ever get married _ever ever!_ again_.  "I wish you could just tell me what I needed to hear...that you love me...that you'll always love me...that there will never be a time without me and you..."_ she whispers.

"I can't promise anything," he says, "maybe not even that the sun comes up and the sun comes down."

But they're still friends, just friends who really feel like they've _never_ known each other.  She knows there must've been a time when she felt comfortable around him and wanted to kiss him and wanted to be with him.  She knows this time is **still now** and **always now** and **forever now.**

He sees the emptiness in her eyes because he's observant and she notices that he sees.  She says: "I don't like you seeing me like this."  And he says:  "You're really human, you're not a stone."  She smiles, _"...I've never stopped being a stone..."_

And he thinks, it's probably true. 

And he thinks this is all his fault without _really_ being all his fault....

She talks about the Yule Ball of fourth year a lot and he listens and says: "We were weird then, huh?"  She smiles, "you were a good dancer, I was impressed."  "So were you," he mutters, "so were you."

He was a good friend, she was impressed.

She was a good friend, he knew so.

And these Slytherins...one day, one day not too far away...grow up...

Parkinson and Malfoy grow up and you never really think you grow up you just _know_ it.  They can _feel _it in their veins, in their souls, _where it hurts_, in their hearts...though not many enter.  They can feel it and they know it's more real than **magic** and they _still _don't understand it.  He says: "Seventeen..."  "Stunning seventeen," she comments, _"I don't think this school can teach me anymore."_

His hand touches hers slightly.  Two pale hands, two cold hands.

**Two** _worlds..._**two** _minds…_**two**_ friends…_**two** _loves..._**two** _different wars…_**two** _lives_**....**

...**one** _heart_

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